Le Tour, part 2a - Pyrenees France

Picked up Vera in Barcelona at the airport, and before she had a chance to realize she was jet-lagged, scooted off to the mountains. At the train station we found out that we couldnt use our passes for the first half of the journey, because all the rail pass seats were booked. This worked out just fine because Vera was able to not use her train pass the whole time and she can get a refund. So we embarked on the day-long journey to Lourdes. At the train station in Toulouse, we saw people making the pilgrimage to Lourdes - we didnt realize it at first, since the women wear habits very similar to the uniform of a WWII nurse. I honestly thought there might be some kind of re-enactment going on, and then i kept seeing more of them, plus the discussion of the healing waters in Lourdes reappeared.

See Vera's pictures from our trip, here.

We agreed to meet Sandra and Abi in Cauterets, which is an adorable skiing town. Its quite touristy, but they serve good cafe au lait. Cauterets was a great starting place, since the scenery around that area is spectacular. No matter where you start in the Pyrenees, theres a stiff uphill climb ahead of you, though, and Cauterets - Refuge des Oulettes de Gaube was no exception. (See these photos of the hut). By the end of the first day, we were exhausted and no less than ecstatic to see the hut which served an enormous carbo-tastic meal (veggie options too!). We camped next to the hut, much to Vera's chagrin, since the designated campsite was situated in the river floodplain and right beneath a talus slope - "you'd have to be STUPID to camp in a glacial moraine valley". I was heartened by the 20 or so other campers who didnt seem to notice the impending flood or landslide, although doomsday headlines did flash before my eyes several times. Fortunately, we all emerged unscathed although this wasnt the most helpful to remedy Vera's jetlag.

Breakfast in the refuges is continental - that is, coffee or tea, bread, jam, butter, croissants if you're lucky. Cold cereal and milk was usually provided as well. So after "breakfast" (i quickly learned that i could carry a loaf of bread and some cheese and just pay for the coffee to save some money and longing for eggs and toast) we set off with our legs aching already. However, despite the hurting and the longing for more breakfast with real coffee, i was quite content since this area was as spectacular as anything i could have hoped for (Sam was RIGHT! not that i ever doubted, but). We climbed our first high mountain pass in better time than i hoped, so with some urging and a nice break we dropped our packs and headed up Petit Viginemale, a high peak close to the saddle at the pass. The weather was clear, despite a dry thunderstorm the night before (that didnt help the nervous sleeping situation). The top was crowded but absolutely great views. We could see the valley we were headed down to Gavarnie, and the Breche de Roland in the distance looking like a gap in a toothy kid's front teeth. Below us on the other side of the pass we'd just climbed was Refuge Baysellance, where we stopped to eat lunch at their tables. Both these first two refuges we encountered were new looking, clean and lush. We descended into the valley des oulettes, for our long walk into Gavarnie.

We had a good long way to go to get to tree line, and we were all acutely aware of the thunderheads building as we descended. Just about the time we scrambled over the last of the exposed rock-ledge bits (there werent many, but enough for those of us afraid of heights) the rain started. However, there wasnt thunder, so we just kept walking. There were plenty of other people on the trail. In France, it is customary to say "Bon jour" (or Bon jour! or Bon JOUR!, however you feel) to everyone you see on the trail. I loved this custom, seems very civil and nice to me. Not so nice when someone then tries to keep talking to me in French and i cant understand a dang word and i have to admit my American ignorance.

Luckily we had french-gifted people wiht us, and Abi and Sandra, surely after a lively Bon jour!, struck up a conversation with some fellow hikers. They were just out for the day, and offered to give the four of us a ride to Gavarnie from the car park. Saved from the rain! By the time we made it to the car, we were already drowned rats. All of our stuff was wet and muddy, and to make matters worse these guys who gave us a ride had a volkswagen station wagon, with leather interior. Abi told me later she thought it was a rental car, but still, i wanted to jump out from embarrassment when the bottom of the car scraped rocks several times as we zipped down the dirt road which is steep and winds into Gavarnie. Well they put up with us and hauled all of us and our wet shtuff to town, and we thanked them profusely and scampered off before they could record our details to report to the insurance company.

Accomodation under a roof, and hot food are like winning the lottery when trekking in the rain. We found this amazing gite d'etape (like a hostel-refuge that serves food) and splayed all our stuff out to dry and went to order glorious pizza and wine. On our way, we discovered that the town of Gavarnie has absolutely astoundingly beautiful views, and the cirque du Gavarnie has become one of my favorite places on the trek. The town looks south onto the cirque, and Le Grande Cascade. The cirque and the waterfall seem unreal, and i stared at them, standing on the wet ground and the scent of wet leaves and dirt surrounded me. The clouds hovered just above the ridgeline, and it seemed as though we'd been delivered to wonderland. In a volkswagon.

Next day we set out for the Refuge des Sarradets (Vera calls it the "crazy hut at the pass"). We were skeptical about the pass above the refuge, and the climb up to the hut looked dicey on the map. Reading in the book, we learned of a glacier crossing above the hut that sounded dicey - you need ropes and training for that! So we gathered all information we could, and talked to some people at the gite d'etape who had been up there the previous day, and sussed out that we could make it, that it wasnt as bad as the book said. So we set out, not without trepidation, and as we started the steep part of the day, (the second half), the clouds were already gathering over the peaks. Us Colorado girls saw this as a BAD sign, meaning, we better make it SOON or we might have to turn back because of a thunderstorm up there. This was the day that Sandra was parting with us, so we said a hurried goodbye, and made a run for it. Later, Abi told us that she never wanted to hear those words again in the context of climbing. First, "running" is quite the wrong metaphor for going full steam, while still only moving at snails pace because its so steep and your pack is so heavy. Second, if you're making a "run for it", you maybe shouldnt be there anyway, right? Well anyway, we made a last push for the top and we made it in an hour up the steepest bits and up the waterfall you have to use chains to assist climbing. The waterfall was stressful, not because it was that scary, but because it was crowded and there were all these people with kids in their little tennis shoes and there was no right of way or yielding pattern so it was sort of a free for all. Regardless, we made it and the view! The hut! When we arrived at the hut (it was only 12.30), we were exhausted. And, the weather never got terrible. It rained, but no thunder and it cleared up in the afternoon.

So we had a rest day in one of my favorite places on our trek. It was glorious. We watched the waterfall, and we read and we napped in the sun. We drank coffee and we played crazy norwegian-style gin rummy. Exquisite. We talked to people about the pass ahead, and consulted our maps. We decided that based on what we'd already done and what the maps showed, it would be fine to try for the pass the next day. The pass, the Breche de Roland, is the border between France and Spain, and the story about Spain will be continued from here.